


The Bet

by KittyBandit



Series: RarePair Week 2019 [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Background Relationships, Background Relationships - Laven, Betting, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, OT3, Romance, Weddings, bridal shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyBandit/pseuds/KittyBandit
Summary: To ward off boredom while trapped in Wedding Prep Hell, Tyki drags Cross into a bet involving the klutzy seamstress working at the boutique. However, the simple wager escalates into more than they bargained for.





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> For RarePair Week 2019 Day 1 – The Lovers  
Prompts used: Partnerships, union, disharmony
> 
> This fic has been in the making for nearly 2 years and I'm so happy I was able to use it for RarePair Week. I hope you all enjoy it!

He hated weddings.

The expectations. The frills. The overpriced flowers. The mushy, romantic garbage that would likely end in acrimonious divorce and bitter feelings between both parties involved. The only thing he didn’t hate about it was the booze. If he were lucky, he would spend the reception at the bar, drunk off his nut and ignoring the fact that that little shit was getting married.

_Allen_, getting married.

Fuck, he didn’t want to think about it.

The _Blushing Bride Boutique_ was as quaint as could be expected. Cross didn’t know why the hell he was here, other than Allen had requested all his wedding party to be present, which—_unfortunately_—included him. He would’ve shit himself if Allen had asked him to be one of his groomsmen, or fucking God forbid,_ walk him down the aisle_. But his services as a priest came in handy, and Allen had demanded he take part in the wedding in some way or another. Cross couldn’t be that surprised—he was the only family the kid had left, and _family_ was a stretch of the word.

Allen and his husband-to-be sat at a large table, the glass top covered in fabric samples and magazines with suit designs, front to back. Cross noticed how close the two were, Allen’s head leaning slightly towards Lavi’s as they looked over each option with more thought and care than it deserved. It made Cross’ nose twitch in agitation. He still didn’t trust that kid, but Allen seemed to love him, and the brat wouldn’t listen to him, anyway. Whatever. He didn’t need to stick his nose in it.

Allen had dragged their best men with them as well. Kanda Yuu joined them at the table, looking more pissed than even Cross was at being sequestered in the boutique. It had been an hour and they hadn’t even picked a color, let alone a suit. He couldn’t blame Kanda for his ire—Cross was right there with him. In fact, the day had been made worse by Allen’s best man, who had made it his mission to annoy the piss out of him since he’d arrived.

Tyki snatched the bottle of complimentary champagne off the front counter, pouring himself another glass. “Don’t suck down all the alcohol, Marian.”

Cross exhaled through his nose before draining the last of the champagne in his flute. The damned glasses were too small for his liking and the bubbly, pink liquor wasn’t nearly strong enough to take the edge off this abysmal meeting. “Can’t even get a mouthful with these tiny fucking glasses,” he grumbled, stealing the bottle back and filling his glass once more.

“Just drink it from the bottle like the lush you are.” Tyki gave him a coy smirk before the flute touched his lips and he sipped at the liquid.

Cross couldn’t help but snort at the suggestion. “Staying classy as ever, Mikk.”

“You know me. I’m a classy kind of guy.” Tyki took the last of the champagne and filled his glass to the brim. He groaned as the droplets teetered out and they ran out of booze. “Why do we have to be here for this?”

The bubbles tickled Cross’ nose as he drank again. God, he wished they had something harder. This fruity shit wasn’t going to cut it. “Don’t ask dumb questions.”

In that moment, drinks in hand, they both looked over at Allen. The damn kid was beaming, practically glowing under the attention. Cross didn’t miss the subtle changes—how Allen leaned in closer to Lavi, how his smile brightened, how he took each opportunity to touch his fiancé and lean into the casual touches Lavi returned to him. Allen was so fucking happy, it was sickening. Cross watched as Lavi wrapped an arm around Allen’s shoulders as he studied a new page of suits. He scoffed, and looked away.

“He really likes that idiot, huh?” Tyki asked, offhandedly. He rubbed at his nose, golden eyes lingering on the scene across the room before turning his back on it. 

“Seems to be the case.” It was an unspoken law between them, something from before Cross learned who Tyki was—_how troublesome he was. _Even though they butted heads at every meeting, and there was still some bad blood from the scant few months they tried dating, they had always agreed on one thing: No one hurt Allen Walker.

Turning away from the scene as well, Cross sucked down the last of his drink. “Yeah. Well, he’d better treat him right. Or I’ll kill him.”

Tyki chuckled, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep from spilling his champagne. “Oh, Papa Cross coming out to play, eh?”

“Shut up.”

Taking another drink, Tyki continued to look at him, laughter creased in the corners of his eyes. “But he’s cute, at least.”

Cross did his best to keep from frowning. “He’s too young for you.”

“Mmm, sounds like the old man is jealous.”

“You have exactly two seconds to shut your trap or I’ll shut it for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Tyki sighed. “Fine. You’re a lot surlier than you used to be.” After draining his own glass, he slipped behind the counter and poked around for another bottle of alcohol. The complimentary bottle was supposed to be for the grooms to enjoy, but Allen and Lavi had been so busy looking at fabric and tuxes and suits that they’d forgotten all about it. Cross doubted they’d care much anyway. Allen never drank (a fact that Cross had always secretly been proud of him for), and it wouldn’t have been fun for Lavi to drink it alone. He and Tyki were just doing them a favor.

As Tyki rifled around behind the counter like a looting thief, a short, mousy woman walked up to them. She carried bolts of fabric, barely keeping them all in her arms, and watched Tyki with concern. “S-S-Sorry. Can I help you with something?”

Tyki stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression unworried as he eyed her up. Cross recognized the look on his face in an instant—it was the same one he used to get out of trouble time and time again. A charming smile went a long way when it came with a handsome face—and as much as Cross hated to admit it, Tyki was devilishly handsome.

“Just looking for another bottle of wine for the grooms. This one is empty,” he said, shaking the bottle as if to emphasize its lack of liquor. It was a blatant lie, of course, what with the grooms too busy to bother with any drinks at the moment. But the woman’s eyes widened, and she nodded in understanding.

“Oh, of course! I’ll get another one right away!” She rushed to the backroom, and before she reached the doorway, tripped over her own feet, dropping every bolt of fabric. Tyki snorted, hiding his amusement behind his hand as he returned to the right side of the counter with Cross.

“Check out the Human Disaster,” Tyki whispered, leaning into Cross’ side as they both watched the woman gather up the fabric before disappearing in the backroom.

Tyki’s comment left a sour taste in his mouth. Cross glared at him, lips twitching into a disapproving frown. “Don’t be such a shit to ladies.”

“It’s just a joke. Calm your tits, Marian.”

“Don’t talk about my tits,” Cross snapped back, his voice still low enough to avoid drawing attention, though he glanced over at the group still perusing fabric samples. They seemed unaware of their conversation, too involved in the task at hand. “Maybe if you learned a little tact, you wouldn’t be a pathetic sod living alone in that shithole you call an apartment.”

“Speaking of tact—”

Cross cut him off again, ire rising. “You couldn’t pick up a date if your life depended on it. You don’t know how to treat people properly. You can’t even be nice to a poor lady just doing her job.”

Tyki raised his eyebrows, a smug smirk crawling across his lips. “Managed to pick you up, though, didn’t I?”

Cross broke their eye contact, the slight hitting him harder than he thought possible. Of course Tyki would pick and choose what he wanted to reply to, ignoring the meat of his words. “And yet here we are, _not together_, and I somehow still have to deal with your antics. The universe is cruel.”

Chewing on his lip, Tyki leaned in closer. He stared at Cross, a mischievous smile on his face. “…I bet you I can get that klutzy lady to go out with me before you.”

Cross snorted outright. He shook his head and returned Tyki’s gaze with an incredulous look. “No.”

“No? What are you scared, Marian? Think you’ll lose to me, someone with so little _tact_?”

“_No_. It’s just a stupid bet to make.” Cross pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses as he tried to ignore Tyki. “Besides, you have nothing I want. You certainly don’t have money.”

“How about something better than money?” Tyki offered. “Humiliation.”

“What the fuck?”

Tyki continued, unbothered by Cross’ reaction. “Whoever loses has to sing a song at the wedding. And the winner picks the song.”

“That’s fucking ludicrous. I’m not doing that.” He tried to pull away, but Tyki leaned in closer.

“C’mon,” Tyki needled him. “It’ll give us something to do while all this wedding planning is going on. And besides, she’s kinda cute. I’d fuck her.”

“You’d fuck anything with a pulse.” Cross paused, grimacing. “Maybe even without one.”

A pout marred Tyki’s face as he sighed. “You think so little of me?”

“I’ve seen you naked, so yeah. I do think little of you.”

Tyki snorted loudly, Kanda giving them a suspicious glare from the other side of the room before choosing to ignore them once more. They were still in the clear, and Tyki shook his head as he clapped his hand on Cross’ shoulder. “You’re fucking vicious.”

Cross rolled his eyes, letting out a long exasperated sigh. He’d forgotten how frustrating it could be talking with Tyki. It was best to ignore him while they were stuck in Suit Shopping Hell for the foreseeable future.

“Well,” Tyki began, his golden eyes focusing on the door to the backroom. “If you’re too chicken to take up the bet, I’ll just do it for fun.”

_That_ caught Cross’ attention. “What?”

The grin on Tyki’s face made his stomach turn and he wished he could say the feeling was unpleasant. “Just because you won’t play doesn’t mean I can’t.”

The woman came back, a chilled bottle of champagne in her hands. She’d already uncorked it, and walked carefully to avoid spilling the contents. “I’m sorry for not getting this sooner. I had trouble with the corkscrew.”

Tyki waved off her apology, that charming smile plastered on his face like a jester’s mask. Cross eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just pleased you could get us some more at all. We do hate to be a bother.”

Cross had to stifle a derisive noise. As if Tyki ever wanted to do anything but bother someone or something.

“I’m Tyki,” he said, glancing at Cross like he’d expected him to make a snide comment. “And you are?”

“Ah, Miranda,” she replied quickly, her fingers twisting together anxiously.

“And what do you do here, Miranda?”

Miranda blinked, confused at the continued questioning. “I—um, I’m a seamstress.”

Tyki leaned his elbow against the counter, watching her with interest in his eyes. “Oh? I bet you’re wonderful at it.”

Miranda shook her head, her dark-rimmed eyes darting to Lenalee for a split second before returning to Tyki, though she never met his gaze. “Ah, not really. No, I’m mediocre at best.” 

“I’m certain if Lenalee has kept you on, you must do amazing work,” Tyki added, still plying her with compliments. However, as the exchange continued, it became obvious that any compliment given to Miranda could be turned on its head just as quickly.

She flushed and smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Lenalee was kind enough to offer me this job a few years ago. I’m sure she could find someone better at any time.”

Tyki hummed, undeterred as he leaned in closer. “Will you be working on the suits for this wedding?”

Miranda nodded, a nervous smile gracing her features. “Yes, I work on all the clothes in this boutique.”

“I’m lucky to have such a talented seamstress as you working on my suit,” Tyki said, lowering his voice as he took one of her hands in his.

Stammering, Miranda flushed brightly. “Ah-ahhh, thank you?” She didn’t pull her hand away, but the look on her face reminded Cross of a mouse trapped by a cat. And considering Tyki’s intentions, the comparison fit all too well.

In that moment, something clicked in Cross’ head. He wasn’t sure if it was Tyki’s unabashed and flagrant flirting after what he’d said, or that the poor seamstress seemed as uncomfortable as she was charmed, but he couldn’t stand silently by any longer. He wished he could say he was stepping in for Miranda’s sake, but more than anything, he wanted to stick it to Tyki and prove the bastard wrong.

With a delicate touch, Cross poured a fresh glass of champagne into one of the clean glasses. With the sweetest smile he could muster, he elbowed Tyki in the side as he handed Miranda the glass. He swore he heard Tyki growl under his breath, but if Miranda heard it, she didn’t react. “Share a drink with me, my dear. You could use a break.”

His sudden interruption, coupled with the bubbling drink thrust under her nose only turned Miranda’s skin a deeper shade of crimson. “I-I shouldn’t,” she stuttered, curling her fingers into her palm as she stare at the glass. “I’m still working, and—”

“Just one sip?” Cross asked again, moving in closer. He handed her the glass, fingers lingering on hers, and watched as she parted her lips, unable to speak. “Or would you rather take the wine from my own lips?”

“I, uh—I—I—” Miranda balked, completely embarrassed. Before Cross or Tyki could continue their flirtations, a stern, female voice cut through the air.

“Miranda,” Lenalee said, walking to counter with a forced smile on her face. “Could you get me a few more samples from the backroom?”

“Y-Y-Yes, of course!” Averting her gaze, she set the glass down on counter and scrambled to the backroom, closing the door behind her. Once she’d disappeared, Lenalee turned to Cross and Tyki, her sweet demeanor dropping in an instant. “Could you please leave my seamstress alone? She doesn’t need you two stressing her out any more than she already is.”

Tyki shrugged and took Miranda’s abandoned glass in hand. “What? We weren’t doing anything.”

Allen stood and followed after Lenalee. He frowned at them both, looking as if he’d heard this song and dance a million times. “What are you both up to?”

Letting out an annoyed huff, Tyki pulled the glass to his lips and took a sip before answering. “Chill out, boy. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Likewise, Cross poured himself another glass and refused to look at Allen. “Like I have to answer to you, kid.” He drained the flute in one go, then went in for another.

Allen rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh. His shoulders slumped and Cross felt bad for causing him trouble—but only a little. “Would you please behave yourselves? This is important and if you screw it up somehow for me, I’ll never forgive either of you.”

“Ouch,” Tyki said, not taking the threat seriously as he sucked down more of the champagne. “Harsh, boy. You’re gonna break my heart at this rate.”

Narrowing his eyes, Allen watched them with an unconvinced glare. Allen was too smart to not catch on that they were up to something, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it. However, before he could berate them once more, Miranda returned with the samples and Lenalee and Allen gathered back at the table with the others. This time, Miranda didn’t linger and returned to the backroom without giving them a second look.

As they both leaned back against the front counter, watching Miranda disappear once more, Tyki leaned in close so only Cross could hear his proclamation. “This isn’t over. I’m gonna win.”

Cross snorted and grabbed the bottle of champagne again. “Not a chance in hell.”

xXxXxXx

Miranda’s heart was still pounding in her chest, even after the store had emptied out. She stood in the storage room, her back against the door, as she fought to calm her thundering pulse. Staring at the shelves of fabric and sewing supplies, she tried to piece together what had happened today.

What the heck was that? Why were they—Tyki and Cross, _right?_—flirting with her? That _was_ flirting, wasn’t it? It had to be. She might have been a bit thick when it came to these things, but she couldn’t have interpreted that as anything but flirting. They touched her hands, spoke to her with such calm confidence, and—_God_—Cross had suggested _kissing_ her.

Things like this didn’t happen to her. She was just… _Miranda_. The klutz. The waste of space. The person everyone could easily ridicule and tease without consequence. Always in last place. Always ruining whatever she touched and tripping over her own feet. The homebody. Part of the scenery. Unimportant. She wasn’t the girl who was flirted with—especially not by two handsome men.

Why had they been… flirting with her? And so suddenly? She’d been overwhelmed, unable to process what had been happening at the time. She’d never received that kind of attention before and it had came out of nowhere…

No one was interested in her. She barely had friends, let alone a significant other. She’d been blessed simply working at the Boutique and that Lenalee and her friends were nice to her, even when she screwed things up. But this…? She didn’t know how to process this sort of attention. She didn’t deserve it, especially from two such handsome men.

But,_ oh my_, how handsome they were…

Miranda brushed the hair back from her flushed face and sat down on the floor near the door. She managed to calm down, but only enough to stop the rush of blood in her head and push past that initial fear that she would pass out from hyperventilating. What was she supposed to do now? They were both in Allen and Lavi’s wedding party and she would see them a few times before the wedding in six months. Would they be as forward as they were today? Oh, God… She didn’t know if she could handle that. She’d been a stuttering, blushing mess for those few short minutes. How would she handle having to work one on one with them as she altered their suits?

Shaking her head, she let out a heavy breath and slapped her cheeks. _Pull yourself together, Miranda,_ she told herself. _You__’ve got a job to do!_

She could manage this. She could get through it and do her work and avoid any awkward interactions. She was probably overreacting, anyway. They were just being friendly. It didn’t mean anything at all.

Yeah, it would be fine. _Totally fine_.

xXxXxXx

Tyki returned to the _Blushing Bride Boutique_ three weeks later for his first fitting.

Allen and Lavi had decided on the color and style of the tuxedos and, not wanting to waste a chance to win his bet with Cross, he scheduled an appointment as soon as he could. Early, in fact. _Way_ too early. It wouldn’t take more than a month or two for Miranda to tailor the tux and even Allen had been suspicious of his over-preparedness. While Allen was clueless of his ulterior motives, he didn’t know how long that would last. The kid had a knack for figuring out Tyki’s plans and torpedoing them. But that didn’t matter. He had time to win over the seamstress and shove Cross’ nose in it.

He’d forgotten how much fabric could be crammed into such a little building. Racks of wedding dresses lined the walls and took up half the floor space of the shop. The sheer number of different styles, shapes, and sizes made his head ache. At least he didn’t have to deal with that wedding dress nonsense—all he needed was a suit.

“I’ll be right with you,” came a call from the other side of the shop. Tyki spied Miranda carefully carrying a wedding dress to the backroom, hanger in one hand as she struggled to keep the dress off the ground and her other arm supporting the ridiculous, overflowing ruffles of the bustle.

It looked like the dress was ready to eat her whole.

He wandered near the front desk, drumming his fingers along the delicately painted wood as he looked around the boutique. The rest of the shop was empty, which only made his plan all the easier to execute. With the two of them alone, he could ply his charms without an audience, and Cross would eat his words when he lost.

Tyki heard Miranda’s quick footfalls before he saw her, turning as she reappeared from the backroom. Her pale cheeks were flushed and hair in disarray. He had to admit, her disheveled appearance was rather cute.

“Sorry,” Miranda said, hand to her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” A grin spread over his face, as charming and fake as the case of rhinestone jewelry displayed at the front counter. “Shall we?”

“Oh, yes! Of course—right this way.” Miranda gestured for him to follow her as they walked to the back of the boutique. She fumbled with a notebook, flipping through heavily marked and tabbed pages. “This is for the Walker/Bookman wedding, right?”

Tyki tried to contain his grimace at her words. He still wasn’t used to the idea of Allen getting married, but it wasn’t his choice to make. Besides, the kid seemed happy—who was he to argue? “Yes, that’s the one.”

Miranda led him back to the dressing rooms. Clothing racks lined the walls, stacked two deep in some places. A rainbow of different colors hung from each rack, and Tyki felt lost and out of place in the chiffon and silk covered room. Miranda, however, seemed to be in her element. She waded through the bagged clothing, checking tags and moving more swiftly and gracefully than he had expected, given their initial encounter.

She set her notebook aside and pulled out a sharp suit—dark grey with a matching vest. A dress shirt and tie hung in the bag as well. After picking up her discarded notebook once more, she hurried back to Tyki, handing him the bag with a tired smile on her face. “Please try this on in the dressing room.”

Laying on the charm, he smiled again, making sure to brush his fingers over hers as he took the suit. “I’ll be quick. Don’t want to keep a beautiful lady waiting, do I?”

Miranda blinked, completely taken aback by his forward comment. She clutched her notebook her chest and averted her eyes. “I—I, uh… Okay?”

It hadn’t been the reaction he’d hoped for, but he’d take it. Not wanting to overwhelm her, he turned and disappeared into the dressing room without another word.

The suit was made with fine material—he felt as much when he pulled it out of the protective bag. The gray was a good color, too. Not too drab, but elegant in its own way. He hadn’t paid attention to what the lucky grooms were wearing, but he figured it would be something fancier than this.

After disrobing and tossing his street clothes to the floor, he slipped into the suit pants and then grabbed the white dress shirt. He frowned as he tried to button it, feeling the tug and pull of the fabric across his chest. Too tight, obviously, but not enough to keep him from buttoning it. He kept working the buttons, but halfway down his chest, he froze.

Why waste a perfectly good opportunity to flirt?

He unbuttoned the shirt again, grinning like a madman. Once it was completely undone, he ran a hand through his tousled hair and checked himself in the mirror before snatching the vest and suitcoat off the hanger.

Clearing his throat, he reentered the main fitting room, doing his absolute best to look nonchalant and aloof. “The shirt’s too tight. I couldn’t quite get it buttoned.”

Miranda turned at the sound of his voice, and as she laid her eyes on his bare chest, she dropped her notebook on the floor in shock. “Oh… Oh, I—um… Okay. Okay. I—” She stuttered, face flushed so red that a tomato would’ve been jealous of her color. Letting out an undignified squeak, she turned and walked towards one of the overflowing clothing racks. She rifled through them, pointedly ignoring Tyki’s state of undress, before yanking a white, button-up shirt from the rack. Keeping her gaze off his bare chest, she handed him the shirt, holding it in front of her face to block him from her sight. “H-H-H-Here’s a size bigger. P-P-P-Please try it instead.”

Tyki’s confident grin faltered as he took the shirt from the seamstress. Maybe he’d gone a bit far—but really, he only had his shirt unbuttoned. _How nervous was she? _Aborting his over the top flirting, he gave in and walked back towards the dressing room.

It took him a moment to switch shirts, and when he rejoined Miranda in the main room again, he made sure to keep his shirt buttoned properly. Miranda looked relieved when she saw him fully clothed, and gestured for him to step in front of the mirrors.

“Does the shirt fit better?” she asked, draping a measuring tape around her neck and pulling out a container of pins. She tugged at the shirt, checking the seams. It was like a switch flipped. She was no longer the stuttering mess she’d been not two minutes ago—but instead exuded confidence and poise. It took Tyki aback and he stumbled over his reply.

“Oh, yeah. I guess so.” He shook his head, knocking the cobwebs away so he could focus. If he got distracted, there was no way he’d win his bet with Cross. As Miranda checked his sleeve cuffs, he slapped the same fake grin he’d had on earlier. “You have quite the delicate touch, Miranda.”

She paused, pin in hand, and gave him an awkward smile back. “Oh, not really. I usually break everything I touch.” She had said it so flippantly that Tyki almost missed how depressing the statement was. She moved down to check the length of his pants, slipping a few pins into the hem.

“I have a hard time believing that,” he added, still keeping that suave tone in his voice. “You’re too gentle and talented.”

Miranda straightened up again and laughed awkwardly. “I’m not really, but thank you.” She grabbed more pins from the container. “Could you put the vest and suitcoat on?”

“Of course.” He slipped into the vest first, then put on the suitcoat. As he worked the buttons of the vest, Miranda looked over the coat fitting, focused on her work rather than his flirting. She slipped pins into seams along the shoulders and inner arms of the coat, eyebrows knit tight in concentration.

“It doesn’t seem to need too much altering,” she said, grabbing her notebook and writing down measurements and notes. “I should be done with this in a week or so.”

A week? That wasn’t much time. If he was going to put Cross in his place, he needed speed up the process. If he wasn’t quick enough in asking her out, that redheaded bastard would swoop in and win the whole thing. And there was no fucking way he was going to sing at Allen’s wedding. He’d rather eat glass.

Shaking those unpleasant thoughts form his head, he leaned in closer to Miranda, invading her space as she scribbled in her notebook. “Say, are you free tomorrow—”

Before he could get the sentence out, Lenalee came into the fitting area, arms full with bolts of fabric. “Miranda, I need your help! The shipment came early!”

Miranda jumped, nearly dropping her pen and notebook again. “Oh! Yes, Lenalee! I’ll be right there!” She turned to Tyki with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I need to help my boss. If you could just leave the suit in the fitting room, I’ll make sure to take care of everything.”

“But I—”

“I’ll let you know when the alterations are done!” Before he could get another word out, she disappeared out the doorway.

Tyki sighed, shoulders slumping. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.

xXxXxXx

_Black_. Of course they have him wearing black.

Cross could have worn one of the suits he had in his closet. He was only the officiant—he could get away with looking different than the wedding party. But Allen insisted and, as much as he would like everyone (Allen included) to think he didn’t give a shit what the kid wanted, it was too difficult to not cave to his demands. It was his wedding after all. What the hell right did he have to argue with the groom?

Still, he was pleased the kid had taste. The suit felt as amazing wearing it as it looked on him. It was classy, sophisticated. He would look damned good come the wedding day. It almost made him curious as to what Allen and Lavi had picked out for themselves. _Almost_.

Miranda returned to the fitting area, three bolts of fabric in her arms. She looked distressed, overwhelmed. He noticed a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and worried creases around her eyes. “I’m sorry to get pulled away like that. We’re just so busy right now. It’s wedding season.”

Cross waved off her concerns. “No need to apologize. I’m in no rush. Besides,” he began, lowering his voice and leaning in closer to Miranda. “It gives us more time to spend together.”

“O-Oh—well, _ah_… I suppose so?” she stuttered, still looking down at her sewing notes. She swallowed, a faint tremble in her hands as she jotted down some measurements. “How, uh… How does the suit fit?

“It’s loose in the waist and thighs.” Cross pulled at the pants for emphasis. “And the shoulders are a little tight.”

Pulling out some pins, Miranda went about marking the suit for alterations. “This shouldn’t be too difficult to fix,” she said, slipping pins into the fabric. “Though it may take some time. I have a lot of clothes to alter.”

“Take your time, of course. The wedding isn’t for months.” He watched her as she went about her work, quickly marking each seam. As she moved up to pin the suitcoat, Cross smiled at her. “Your boss makes you work too hard.”

Miranda looked up from her work, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Lenalee? Oh, no. No, she’s too kind to me, really. I couldn’t ask for a better employer.”

“Still, a lady like you deserves a break.” He took a chance, reaching out to brush a few strands of mussed hair from her face. “Beautiful women shouldn’t have to work this much.”

A dark red flush broke out across her cheeks and nose as she stuttered and fumbled for her words. “I—uh. Oh, my. I’m not, though—beautiful, that is. But, um, thank you?”

Cross took her shaking hand in his and pulled it to his lips for a chaste kiss—his eyes never once leaving hers. “No, I should be thanking you. I’m honored to be in the presence of such a beauty as you.”

“_Ahh_…” Miranda took her free hand and covered her face, burning brighter yet from the attention. She opened her mouth and closed it again without saying a word, then repeated the motion like a fish out of water, desperate for air. When she finally found her voice again, it was nothing more than a squeak. “Y-Y-Your, um… Your suit is done. If you want to change, I-I can get it ready for alterations.”

“Of course.” Cross let go of her hand, giving her the most charming smile he could muster before heading back into the changing room.

Tyki was going to wish he’d never made that foolish bet with him.

Back in his street clothes, Cross left the boutique, already itching for a smoke and a drink. All that chiffon and lace was giving him a headache. Before he could take a breath of fresh air, he bumped into someone entering the shop. “Sorry, I—” he stopped himself mid-sentence as soon as he caught sight of a familiar dark countenance. “What the fuck are you doing here, Mikk?”

Tyki tilted his head, a sly grin spreading over his face. He had a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m wooing a seamstress so I can see you perform _Oops I Did It Again_ at the wedding.”

Cross scoffed and shut the door behind him, blocking Tyki’s entrance. “I wouldn’t go picking out songs just yet, asshole. You haven’t won shit.”

With a shrug, Tyki shifted the flowers from the crook of his arm to over his shoulder. He still had that damned smirk on his face and Cross wanted to slap it right off. “You’re hardly competition. I’m not exactly worried about losing.”

Oh, he really, _really_ wanted to hit him now. “You can’t just show up without an appointment. That’s cheating.”

Tyki shrugged, still aloof and calm as ever. “We never set any parameters for how we got the date. I don’t see why I can’t show up between fitting appointments.” He sighed, and rested the flowers against his chest. “Did you think you could only hit on her while here for official wedding business? God, you’re so bland, Marian. Besides, I can show up if I have an appointment with _Amor_.”

Cross was certain he was going to puke after that shitty line. “I want to punch you so fucking hard right now.”

“Maybe later, loverboy. I have a date to procure.” Tyki reached for the door handle, pushing past Cross’ hip. He leaned in before opening it, close enough for Cross to feel his breath on his face. “Better warm up that singing voice of yours.” With that, he disappeared into the shop, the doorbell chiming at his entrance.

Cross chewed on the inside of his lip, fuming. “Two can play at this game, asshole.”

xXxXxXx

It took two weeks to figure out Tyki’s chaotic schedule, but after relentlessly stalking his social media accounts, frequenting his favorite bars and restaurants, and prying whatever information from Allen that he could, Cross had managed to pinpoint when his irresponsible ex had enough free time to ply Miranda with his affections. Which gave Cross the chance to cockblock him at every turn.

Not that it got him anywhere.

Between rebuffing Tyki’s advances and having his own attempts at flirtation thwarted in return, Cross had expected the whole affair to take time. But he’d never expected the seamstress to be his biggest challenge. He and Tyki had found any excuse to visit the store—picking out shoes to match their wedding suits, finding the perfect pair of cufflinks, the right watch to match—hell, even jewelry. He’d already bought and returned at least three different rings and earrings, to no avail. Miranda always found a way to dodge his and Tyki’s advances. She was either too busy to attend to them long enough for him to ask her out or she misinterpreted their flirtations completely. How she could miss it was beyond him. No one in their right mind went to a bridal boutique three times a week. The whole thing wore on him—though he found himself more frustrated with the bet itself than Miranda’s inability to catch the slightest hint of his or Tyki’s interest.

Which was why he decided to end it today—for good. No more sly comments and adorations. No more subtle hints and sweet words. He was going to ask her out, point blank. If that didn’t work, nothing would.

He entered the Blushing Bride Boutique and heard the bell chime overhead. As usual, there were racks and racks of dresses and suits, formal wear of all kinds, but when he looked around the shop, Miranda was nowhere to be found. The shop was silent for once, completely empty.

“Hello?” he asked, moving to the front desk as he glanced around the shop. His voice echoed in the empty boutique, and he almost shivered for how eerie it was not to hear chatter or Miranda stumbling around the shop. He drummed his fingers along the front counter, mystified. Just as he was about to check the back storage rooms for signs of life, he heard the faintest wheezing sound coming from behind the counter. Leaning over, he peered behind the desk—and found Miranda.

At first he startled, thinking she’d fallen and hurt herself—stricken unconscious. But after rounding the desk and kneeling down to check on her, it became obvious what had happened. She’d fallen asleep.

He exhaled, his breath blowing a few strands of hair from his face. He knew he should wake her, but she looked so…peaceful. Every interaction he’d had with Miranda since they’d met had been stricken with anxiety—all on her part. He’d never seen her relaxed. The worried lines around her eyes disappeared in sleep, as did the pinched and pained expression she always wore. He didn’t understand why she was constantly a nervous wreck. She might have been a tad klutzy, but she was nothing like him after a night of heavy drinking.

He wished she didn’t get so anxious all the time. Seeing her like this, he couldn’t help but notice how cute she was. But he couldn’t just sit there and watch her sleep—that was a level of creepy he refused to stoop to. Instead, he gently shook her shoulder and called her name. “Miranda? Miranda, wake up.”

She stirred, drowsy as she blinked a few times. For a moment she just stared up at him, her brain not catching up with the image in front of her. But before Cross could ask if she was okay, her dark-rimmed eyes widened comically and she bolted upright.

“Oh, my God. _Oh, my God._ I’m so, so, so sorry!” She struggled to stand, her feet catching on the hem of her skirt. Cross caught her hands and helped her up.

“Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay. I thought you’d fainted.”

“N-No, I—Oh, God… This is so embarrassing.” She pressed her face into her hands and groaned quietly. Cross couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I can assure you, I’ve slept in weirder places,” he added hoping to ease her concerns. Even with her hands pressed against her face, Cross saw the heavy flush on her cheeks and neck.

With a sigh, she pulled her hands away, shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done that before. I was just so tired.”

Cross watched her with concern—she looked about ready to collapse again at any moment. “If you’re that exhausted, shouldn’t you take a day off?”

Miranda’s back straightened up, her posture stiff and uncomfortable. “No, I can’t do that. Lenalee doesn’t have anyone else to help her, and it was my own fault for staying up too late. I was finishing a wedding dress that needed to be done today.” She gestured to the dress hanging on a garment rack behind her. Cross looked at the dress, his eyebrows raising. The beadwork on it was ridiculous—the entire bodice was intricately beaded in a beautiful flowering design. He didn’t want to think about how long it took the poor seamstress to do the work by hand.

“It’s beautiful.” He had no interest in fashion or weddings, but he could appreciate the remarkable craftsmanship.

“Thank you,” Miranda said, a hint of a smile on her worried features. “I just hope the bride thinks so, too.”

“If she doesn’t, she’s a fool.” Cross looked at her for a moment, the air quiet between them, before he added, “Would you like some coffee?”

The question took her off guard. Miranda blinked at him in surprise for a solid five seconds before waving her hands in front of her and smiling awkwardly. “Oh, no. I’m fine, really. I don’t need anything.”

Cross grabbed her hands, gently stopping her erratic waving. “Nonsense. You were sleeping on the floor. I think you could use the caffeine. I was planning on going to the cafe across the street, anyway.”

Miranda chewed on her lower lip and Cross felt her hands trembling in his steady ones. “I couldn’t impose on you.”

“It’s no trouble. I insist. You need something to get you through the day.” He let his hands linger on hers, a hint of worry creasing in his brow as he realized how cold her fingers were. “Please say yes.”

She flushed again, though not nearly as bright as earlier. “Ah, okay. Yes.”

Cross smiled, the curl of his lips more genuine than normal as he let go of her hands. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

It was only after he’d left the boutique that he realized he’d never asked her out.

xXxXxXx

Tyki had never seen the shop so busy.

To be fair, he never really cared enough to pay that much attention. His only reason for returning to the shop day after day was to win that goddamn bet with Cross and embarrass him so badly at Allen’s wedding that the asshole wouldn’t be able to show his face in public for a year. Maybe two, if he was lucky.

But today, the word busy took on a whole new meaning.

At least twenty people were packed into the small boutique, their conversations overlapping and making the entire shop louder than a bar at happy hour. Tyki shoved his hands in his pockets and searched the crowd for the object of his affections. At first he only saw a sea of nameless women, all flustered, panicked, and annoyed. If he’d had any sense left in his head, he would’ve turned around and tried again some other time. The last thing he wanted was get in the way of some Bridezilla. But Cross had been cockblocking him every chance he got (how the fucker figured out his asinine schedule was beyond him), and he was lucky to find an extra hour to spare for more flirtations with Miranda. He couldn’t waste his chance.

Luck was on his side as he spotted the frazzled seamstress balancing a platter of cookies and tea in her hands. As she set the tray down and rushed to return to the backroom, she caught Tyki’s gaze on her. Her eyes widened in recognition, and she met him over by the front counter.

“You’re a little busy, I take it?”

“I’m so sorry. The bride’s dress got a stain on it at the rehearsal dinner and I need to clean it before tomorrow.” Miranda gave him an utterly devastated look, her hands pressed together like she was praying for his forgiveness. “If you come back in an hour, I can help. We’re just so swamped at the moment.”

Tyki glanced over at the focus of the group and noticed Lenalee as she attempted to calm (who he assumed to be) the bride. He shrugged and gave her an unbothered smile. “No big deal. I can come back another day.”

“I’m really sorry you came out here for nothing,” Miranda added, still frazzled.

Tyki wasn’t sure why exactly, but he really didn’t like the worried look on her face. It made his stomach twist uneasily. “No, really. I don’t mind. It was worth it just to see your beautiful face.”

Miranda flushed at the compliment—a much better look on her, in Tyki’s opinion, anyway. She reached for a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the front counter and held the plate out. “Um, here… For your trouble. I made these last night.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking one. He wasn’t a fan of sweets in general, but he never turned down free food. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

After setting the plate back down, Miranda smiled back at him, her anxious energy easing a little. “I look forward to it.”

He gave her a smile before turning to leave, biting into the cookie as he weaved his way through the crowd of agitated women. By the time he’d made it back out to the street, he’d chowed down on the whole thing, mad at himself for not taking two.

_Damn_—it was the best cookie he’d ever had.

xXxXxXx

At the chime of the bell, Cross looked up. His neutral expression grew foul as he caught sight of the boutique’s next customer. “What are you doing here?”

Tyki smiled, brushing off Cross’ rude demeanor like always and joined him at the front desk. He had a bouquet of flowers—cheap, artificially colored daisies—and set them on the counter before leaning heavily against it. “Where’s our lovely seamstress? I brought her a gift.”

Cross pushed the bouquet away from his side of the counter, glaring down at the tacky flowers. “She said she had to take care of something, then disappeared into the backroom.”

Tyki hummed, looking around the shop as he leaned back against the counter. The out-of-tune noise had Cross grating his teeth, but he said nothing—not until Tyki pushed away from the front counter and walked nonchalantly towards the door marked _Employees Only_.

Cross’ eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “Where the fuck are you going?”

He didn’t stop as he answered, “To see about getting a date from that lovely seamstress.”

“You can’t go back there,” Cross warned.

“Watch me,” he said, disappearing into the backroom.

Cursing under his breath, Cross followed after Tyki, fists tight at his sides as he tried to keep his temper in check. “Get out of here before I drag you out. You’re not supposed to be back here.”

Tyki chuckled under his breath, still not bothering to look back at Cross. “And you are?”

“I’m only here to make sure you don’t steal something.”

“I’m sure that’ll hold up in court. Do they call it the ‘Tattle-Tale’ defense?” He laughed at his own joke, shaking his head as he continued to weave through the narrow walkways. Apparently, Lenalee knew how to fill every last inch of space—there was barely room to maneuver between all the stored items.

Cross sighed as he felt control of his frustration slowly slip away. “I’m about five seconds away from strangling you with some of these fabric scraps.”

“Sounds kinky, but I’m a little busy right now.” Tyki tripped over a box of thread, spitting out a muffled curse before righting himself. “Shit, why is there so much crap back here?”

“It’s a storage room. It’s supposed to have crap in it.” Cross grabbed the back of Tyki’s shirt collar, tugging it none-too-gently. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Let’s go back.”

“But where the hell is she?” Tyki looked around the cluttered room, trying to figure out which what she’d disappeared.

“It doesn’t matter because we shouldn’t be back here to begin with.” He tried to tug his collar again, but the slippery bastard pulled forward and out of Cross’ grip.

“Hey, look. There’s a door over here.” Tyki headed to the far end of the room. Behind a few tall garment racks was an exit. The door was cracked open, a medium sized rock propped against the doorjamb to keep it from closing all the way. “Maybe she went this way?”

Cross leveled an unamused look Tyki’s way. “Why would she leave?”

“To get away from you,” Tyki snapped back with a mischievous grin.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later. We got a seamstress to find.”

“Tyki, I swear to God—”

“Oh, untwist your panties for two seconds, Marian.” Without waiting for another reply, Tyki pushed the door open and exited the building.

“You—” Cross cut himself off, biting his lip hard enough to feel the sting and keep the litany of curses from spilling out of his mouth. He followed after Tyki, ready to ring his neck or punch his lights out. Maybe both. Maybe at the same time, if he had enough hands to do it. But before he could curse his idiotic ex out, he heard the cutest, most pathetic little _mew_ he’d heard in his entire life.

He stopped next to Tyki in the alley behind the boutique and saw Miranda feeding not one, not two, but four little black and white tuxedo kittens. She sat right on the ground next to two bowls, one filled with kibble and the other fresh milk. The four fuzzballs were crawling all over her, meowing and biding for her attentions. When Tyki and Cross entered the alley, she looked up and gasped.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry! I got distracted. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She tried to get up, but she couldn’t keep the kittens off her lap.

Tyki and Cross glanced at each other, surprise on both their faces, before venturing closer. Tyki crouched down next to Miranda, petting one of the kittens while Cross stood and watched from above. The kittens were a scraggly bunch, but active and friendly—if the way they were glued to Miranda was any indication.

“Do you come out here everyday to feed them?” Cross asked, eyeing the heaping pile of food she’d put out. He figured the question was rhetorical, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course! They need to eat and my landlord won’t let me keep pets—otherwise I would bring them home with me.”

Tyki grinned as one of the kittens bit at his finger. “You buy all the food yourself? That’s gotta be expensive.”

Miranda nodded, trying to pull the kittens off of her one by one. But every time one little fuzzball was ejected from her lap, another jumped back on. She was fighting a losing battle. “Well, I can’t help it. They are just so little. I’m going to ask around if anyone wants to adopt one. They all will need homes.”

Not giving a second thought to how dirty the ground was, Tyki sat down on the dusty concrete and picked up one of the kittens. It had a white patch of fur over its nose and bright yellow eyes. Cross noticed Tyki’s usually disdainful look melting away as he stared at the kitten. “I…might know a few people who would like one.”

Miranda’s eyes brighten immediately. “Really? Oh, that would be great! I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get them all homes.” She shifted two of the kittens in her lap, carefully removing their tiny claws from the fabric of her skirt. “They’re awfully friendly for strays. I’ve even named them all.”

Cross continued to stand, watching as they played with the kittens. As each minute passed in their presence, it grew more difficult to keep from joining Tyki and Miranda on the ground and playing with the little monsters. “What did you name them?”

Miranda held up a black and white spotted kitten in one hand. “This is Lacey. And this is Silky.” She lifted the other kitten in her lap, this one mostly black with a big white patch on its stomach and chest. “The one Tyki has is Chiffon. And the black kitten is Taffeta—Taffy for short.”

Cross couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked down at Taffy. The kitten rubbed over and over against his ankles, meowing pitifully. “Those are some interesting names…”

“Well, I figured since I found them behind the shop, they should have names to match. _Ah—!_” Miranda pulled Lacey back from her face, keeping the kitten from batting at her long, dark hair again. She set the kitten down and it scampered over to the food dish. “They’re a handful, though. But I’m sure they’ll make great pets! And I’ve been taking good care of them, too!”

“We don’t doubt that,” Cross said, still trying to resist Taffy’s insistent attention. Unlike him, Tyki had already melted like butter on a hot skillet, pressing kisses to Chiffon’s tiny forehead and mumbling cutesy baby talk at the kitten.

Miranda smiled up at him, rearranging Silky in her arms. “Why don’t you pick Taffy up? I think he likes you.”

Her soft suggestion was all it took for Cross to break. He bent down and picked up Taffy. As soon as he’d righted himself, the little kitten squirmed in his arms, rubbing itself against his chest. _Fuck_, he was a broken man now. It took all his willpower not to crack and press his face into the kitten’s soft fur. “I guess he’s kinda cute,” he said, biting back the urge to coo at the little darling.

“See? They’re so hard to resist,” Miranda added, scratching behind Silky’s tiny ears. She turned to Tyki, still excited and more relaxed around them than she had been in weeks. “Do you really think you’ll be able to help me find homes for them?”

“These little cuties? Without a doubt.” Tyki set Chiffon down, and the kitten hurried over to the milk, lapping up the liquid hurriedly. He looked up at Cross and grinned. “I think one might already be spoken for.”

Cross caught Tyki’s look and frowned in return. “I’m not keeping him.”

“Uhuh. Sure,” Tyki replied, unconvinced—as if Cross had told him the sky was green and pigs could fly. God, pissed him off even more.

“I’m not.”

“If you say so,” Tyki egged him on, turning his attention to the kitten in Miranda’s lap.

“I mean it. I don’t want any animals in my apartment.”

“Mhmm…”

Miranda giggled at their exchange, hiding her smile behind her hand. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes met his for a brief moment before averting her gaze again. Cross shifted the kitten in his arms and the little squirming monster crawled up on his shoulder, purring loudly in his ear. He pursed his lips. He wasn’t keeping it, goddammit—no matter what Tyki or Miranda said. He didn’t need a cat clawing up his furniture and peeing in his shoes. That was final—he wasn’t changing his mind. No way.

That night, Cross was at the pet store buying kitten chow and a litter box.

xXxXxXx

Tyki looked at himself in the mirror, tilting his head to the side. A pleased smirk curled over his lips as he shoved his hands in his suit pockets. The deep gray hue complimented his dark skin and hair well, and looked sharper than he’d expected, given the drab color. “I look hott.”

Cross sighed next to him, putting his own suit away in the garment bag. “You look slightly less homeless than normal. I don’t know if you can call that _hott_.”

“I’m sorry, Marian,” Tyki said, watching Cross’ reflection in the mirror. “I didn’t know your eyesight was so bad that you couldn’t see beautiful people. Must be an awful condition.”

Without missing a beat, Cross snapped back, “Don’t apologize. I can see _you_ just fine.”

_“Hey!”_

Before their argument could escalate any further, Miranda rejoined them in the main fitting area. “Are the suits fitting properly?” she asked, setting her notebooks on the table next to one of the garment racks.

“Perfect. You’re a miracle worker, Miranda.” Tyki turned and grabbed her hands, giving her the most dashing smile he could muster. He still had a bet to win, after all. “I couldn’t have asked for a better seamstress.”

Miranda flushed, blinking furiously as she struggled to reply. “Ah, t-t-thank you. I’m glad you like it. But really, it was Allen who picked out the suits. I just made sure they fit.”

He caught Cross’ annoyed look from the corner of his eye, but ignored it. “Trust me—your job was much harder than his. Even the most expensive suit will look awful if not fitted properly.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She deflected his compliments, as she always did. Tyki took a breath, ready to ply more charming wit, but the bell on the front doors chimed. Miranda perked up and pulled her hands free. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a moment. I just need to check the front desk.”

Cross continued to glare, and he grinned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong, Marian? Don’t like the competition?”

Letting out an angry sigh, Cross didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he finished zipping up his suit in the garment bag. “Hurry up and change.”

“Mmm, touchy.” Tyki slipped into the dressing room. The suit may have looked slick as hell, but it was also a pain in the ass to take on and off. He struggled with it for a few moments, careful not to tug too hard and rip the expensive fabric. When he’d finally squirmed his way out of the suit and back into his normal clothes, he frowned down at the suit. How the hell was he supposed to hang this up again?

Giving up, he grabbed the clothes in a rumpled pile and returned to the main fitting room. “Help me hang these up.”

Cross gave him a deadpan look, eyebrow slightly twitching. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Tyki asked, shoving him the pile of clothes towards him. “I don’t even own a suit. How am I supposed to know how this works?”

With a huff, Cross snatched the clothes from Tyki’s arms and unwrinkled them. “You are fucking hopeless, you know that?”

He shook out the buttoned shirt, the annoyed scowl never leaving his face, and grumbled as he hung up the suit properly. Tyki turned away from him as he fought with the suit, meandering over to look at the other suits and dresses hanging on the racks, some only half stitched together. Cross ground his teeth together. “Are you even going to watch? You need to know how to do this.”

Tyki shrugged and picked up the notebook resting on the table near the doorway. “Nah. I only need to wear it once.” He opened the notebook out of boredom, fully intending to close if after his initial glance, and paused. The notebook—or rather, sketchbook—was filled with clothing designs. Each page was meticulously noted, every detail of the designs drawn out. He flipped through the pages, attention stolen from Cross’ complaining.

After Cross hung the suit properly, he walked over to Tyki, looking over his shoulder. “Put that back. Stop messing with things that aren’t yours.”

Tyki turned, obstructing his view of the sketchbook. “Go bother someone who gives a shit what you think.”

“Real mature, Tyki.” Cross shifted his position again so he could look at the sketchbook. He grew quiet and Tyki figured he was just as enamored at the drawings as he was.

Before he could escalate their bickering, a shocked gasp drew their attention. Cross and Tyki looked up at the same time to see Miranda blushing in the doorway.

“Ah! I’m so sorry I left that out.” Miranda hurried over to them, taking the sketchbook from Tyki’s hands. “I’ll put it somewhere out of the way.” She closed it and pulled it tight to her chest, as if she were embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize to him,” Cross said, giving Tyki a sideways glare. “He shouldn’t have gone through your things in the first place.”

As Miranda opened her mouth to—_no doubt_—apologize for apologizing, Tyki interrupted. “Did you draw everything in that sketchbook?”

She paused, dark eyes blinking owlishly. “Yes, I put all my designs in it.” Miranda glanced at the sketchbook, surprised that they had any interest in it at all. “Lenalee said that if I sew up my designs, she’ll sell them in the boutique.”

“All those sketches look great! Why haven’t you sewn something up yet?” His fingers itched to pluck the sketchbook out of her hands and look through the rest of the drawings. He might not have given a shit about fashion, but he was still blown away by Miranda’s talent. He never would’ve guessed that the klutzy seamstress he’d met the first day he’d been in the shop was so talented.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that—not yet. I need something extra special to sew up.” Miranda shook her head and pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest, as if to hide it. “I can’t waste Lenalee’s time with these designs.”

Tyki shared a quick look with Cross, and he could tell his redheaded rival was thinking the same thing. They may have been at each other’s throats near-constantly, but it was hard to argue when Miranda was being so down on herself. She didn’t deserve it.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself back,” Cross said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Your ideas are good, and I’m sure Lenalee thinks so, too.”

Miranda blushed, embarrassed from the praise. “I suppose I could think about it. If you both think I should…”

Tyki jumped on her hesitance, taking her by the elbow and leaning in close. “Absolutely. If you can fix up our suits as fast as you did, I’m sure you can whip up a dress in no time.”

She laughed half-heartedly, not pulling away from his hold. “A full wedding dress will take a lot longer than two suits.”

“Still, you did an amazing job. We’re going to look sharp for Allen and Lavi’s wedding, all thanks to you.”

Miranda flushed a deeper shade of crimson and tightened the hold on her sketchbook. “T-Thanks.”

In her distraction, Tyki took the chance to glance over at Cross. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and he saw the frustration clear in them. He couldn’t help but smirk. No doubt Cross was realizing that Tyki had the upper hand now. They still had a bet, after all, and he wasn’t about to back down—not when he was so close to the goal.

Switching gears, he slipped his arm around Miranda’s waist, pulling her closer. “Speaking of our suits, we should celebrate that they’re finished. Don’t you think, Miranda?”

“I…I guess so?” she replied, looking more nervous the closer Tyki leaned in.

“The shop closes in a few minutes, right? Why don’t you come out with me for some drinks? My treat, of course.”

Miranda, even in her flushed and nervous state, managed to look up at him with surprise. “Really? You want me to come with you?”

“Of course! We wouldn’t have suits without our lovely seamstress.” Tyki lifted Miranda’s hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“I-I suppose that would be fun,” she said, averting her eyes from Tyki’s. She looked over to Cross, face as bright as a cherry tomato. “You’re coming, too?”

Her soft spoken question made Tyki bristle and he shot an annoyed look over at Cross. She’d accepted his proposal for a date and just had to bring that damned asshole into it.

As expected, Cross nodded. “Yeah.”

Miranda extracted herself from Tyki’s snakelike grip, still holding onto her sketchbook tightly. “Okay! I’ll go close everything up and we can go.”

After she left, Tyki grabbed his suit off the rack, glaring at Cross as he turned to leave. “Just had to come with, didn’t you?”

For once, Cross didn’t have a come back for Tyki’s comment.

xXxXxXx

The bar was loud for a weeknight, tables full with patrons and the bartop sticky from spilled drinks. Cross ignored the urge to complain, chewing on the inside of his lip as Miranda looked over the drink list. His guts pinched tight, twisted with a nasty feeling deep inside—a feeling he had been trying to ignore for a while now.

“I don’t know,” Miranda mumbled to herself, fingers twitching against the menu. “I shouldn’t drink when I have to work tomorrow.”

“One drink won’t hurt,” Tyki said, resting his arm on the back of her stool—a none-too-subtle move that only pissed Cross off more. “We’re celebrating, after all. You need to let loose a little.”

Miranda pursed her lips. Cross could almost hear her mentally debating with herself with every twitch of her lips and nose. Finally, she nodded, determination in her eyes. “Yes, you’re right. I deserve a break after all that work.”

They ordered their drinks. As the bartender began making them, Miranda excused herself to use the restroom. Cross tapped his fingers against the counter, still chewing on the inside of his lip as he attempted to keep the scowl off his face.

Tyki turned towards him, barstool creaking as he rested his elbow against the counter. A sly grin spread across his face as he stared at Cross. “I win.”

Those two tiny words were like venom in his blood. He clenched his jaw and shot Tyki a menacing glare. “You didn’t win shit. Technically, we’re _both _on a date with her. If anything, this counts as a tie.”

The bartender dropped off their drinks as Tyki continued to smirk. He waited until they were alone again to continue his ribbing. “_I_ asked her out for drinks and she accepted. Therefore, _I_ win. Also, I changed my mind on the song. You’re singing _Genie in a Bottle_ by Christina Aguilera now.”

Cross grabbed his whiskey off the counter and took a long gulp from the glass. It was half gone by the time he set it back down, though the burn in his throat didn’t ease the sick feeling in his chest. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“The bet. I’m calling it off.”

Tyki had been about to take the first drink from his glass and pulled back at Cross’ clarification. His lips twisted into an angry pout. “Oh, sure. Call it off after _I win_.”

“I’m serious, Tyki. This isn’t funny anymore. It hasn’t been funny for a long time.” Cross felt that angry pinch between his eyes as he struggled to calm down. “I’m calling it off.”

“You’re just stubborn,” Tyki spat, irritation clear in his voice. “You can’t admit that I bested you. Being a sore loser is not a good look on you, Marian.”

Cross felt his composure snap like frayed ends of an old rope. He turned to Tyki, eyebrows furrowed and scowl on his lips. “Goddammit, Tyki. Can’t you take something seriously for once?”

Tyki didn’t break eye contact with Cross as he took another sip of his gin and tonic. As soon as the glass left his lips, he tilted his head. “I’ll tell you what I’m taking seriously—the fact that I won this bet and got Miranda to go out with me first. Why can’t you just admit that I’m better at this than you.”

“Oh.”

The mousy voice caught them both off guard. They snapped their heads towards the sound and saw Miranda standing there, not five feet from the bar. She held her purse to her chest, fingers digging into the soft leather. Cross saw the glassy look in her eyes, tears rimming her eyes but not yet spilling past her lashes. That feeling he’d had since they’d left the boutique came back tenfold, burning in his chest and stomach like hot lead.

“Ah, I see.” Her shoulders hunched forward as she dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet. Her dark bangs fell into her eyes, hiding them from view. “I shouldn’t have been so stupid—to think you both actually liked me.”

“Wait, Miranda, it’s not—” Tyki tried to explain, panic in his voice. He looked more frazzled than Cross had ever seen him before. But she cut off his excuse, slapping a few small bills on the bartop. Cross startled at the sound.

“Here’s the money for my drink,” she said, stuffing her wallet back into her purse. She kept her head down, hesitating for a moment before turning away. “I would appreciate it if you both left me alone from now on.” Without waiting for a reply, she left.

It all happened so fast that Cross couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. One moment she’d been there—the next she’d disappeared from the bar, from their lives. He felt like he was going to puke.

The silence was broken when Tyki muttered _“Fuck”_ under his breath and turned back to the bar. He downed the rest of his gin and tonic, then signaled for the bartender again. When he had his attention he asked for a shot of Fireball.

Slowly, Cross turned back to the bar, leaning heavily against it. His elbows stuck to the surface as he watched Tyki down the nasty shot of red liquor and ask for a second. “I fucking told you.”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t have to say it.” Tyki didn’t wait—knocking back the second shot with ease and dropping the glass back on the countertop. He sighed, pushing the glass around with sticky fingers. “She hates us now.”

The admission didn’t sit well with Cross, but he couldn’t deny it. He took another long gulp from his whiskey, draining the glass dry.

Tyki sighed again, leaning heavily against the bartop. “I feel like shit.”

“You should. You deserve it.” He paused for a moment, watching the ice clink around in his glass. “We both do.” He looked at the drink Miranda had ordered—all fruit and ice and a hint of rum. Sweet, just like her. The thought sent another pang through his chest. As soon as he could, he grabbed the bartender’s attention and asked for another whiskey.

Tyki watched as Cross sucked down his second drink, then slipped into the seat between them—the one they’d reserved for Miranda. “Gonna drink away your problems with me like old times?”

“Might as well. I’m already here.”

“You’re such a charmer,” Tyki mumbled, brushing the hair back from his face. He caught the bartender’s eye and waved him closer. “Another, please.”

An hour passed, then two and three. They hadn’t moved from their seats, heads down and shoulders slumped as they called for the bartender time and time again to refill their drinks.

Cross rubbed his eyes, pressing hard enough to see stars as he tried to clear his head. He’d been drunk after the first hour, but neither of them had stopped. “I think I’m going to throw up,” he said, voice dull and unconcerned with his impending gastrointestinal pyrotechnics.

“Just don’t do it here. You’ll make me wanna barf, too.” Tyki looked into his empty glass and sighed. He leaned against Cross’ shoulder, and Cross didn’t have the energy to chase him off. “We fucked up so bad.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t drank this much since we broke up.”

The admission caught Cross off guard and he spared Tyki a surprised glance. “…Didn’t think you cared that much.”

“I do have a heart, you know,” Tyki said, picking up the pink straw in Miranda’s drink and stirring it. Neither of them had touched it—too upset to drink it, even if it had been a waste of money. The ice had melted by then, and the glass was sticky from the sugar and fruit. “And you broke it pretty hard, asshole.”

Sighing, Cross leaned into Tyki—albeit only a little. “Sorry.” He looked across the bar, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t like the way his heart ached in his chest, or how close Tyki was. “If it makes you feel better, I felt like shit then, too.”

“This is worse, though.” Tyki sat up, dropping the straw and wiping his fingers on his dirty jeans. “We made her cry.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, she didn’t.”

Tyki groaned, leaning against the bartop in spite of the dirty surface. Cross watched him, a defeated look on his face as he pushed his drained whiskey glass away. “I actually kinda like her. What the fuck was I thinking?”

The sentiment rang true to Cross as he listened to Tyki ramble. They may have started this whole charade as a joke—or rather, a stupid bet to one-up each other out of spite—but the longer they interacted with Miranda, the more they came to genuinely like her company. “I like her, too,” he said, too drunk to keep that private sentiment to himself. “But it’s too late to do anything about it now. She hates us.”

“We should apologize.” Tyki shifted in his seat again, the stool squeaking loudly as he leaned closer to Cross.

“She asked us to leave her alone,” Cross replied as he stared down into his empty glass. He wanted another drink, but if he did, he knew he’d be spewing his guts all over the floor. “We should respect her wishes.”

“Yeah, but we can’t leave it like this. It’s cruel. We gotta make it up to her.”

Cross nudged Tyki’s head as it titled closer to his shoulder. “You’re fucking nuts. She doesn’t want to see us again—at all. You just don’t want to feel guilty anymore.”

Tyki winced, his reactions less guarded than normal in his drunken state. “Okay, maybe a little. It just feels terrible. I’ve never felt so shitty in my life. I want it to go away. This whole thing was my idea in the first place, and now she’s hurt because of it.”

Cross shrugged, losing interest in the conversation. He was too distracted by his own spiraling mood to worry about Tyki’s guilt-ridden conscience. “Maybe you should learn not to be a total asshole to people?”

Sitting up with a sudden jolt, Tyki let out an excited gasp. “Wait! Miranda’s invited to the wedding, right? She’s friends with Allen.”

“Yeah, I think so. But I doubt she’ll go now—not when we’ll be there.” Cross watched Tyki as the drunken cogs turned in his head. He frowned, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why?”

“We can apologize at the wedding. We’ll make a big grand gesture—she’ll have to forgive us then!”

Shaking his head, Cross groaned. “No. No, we’re not going to put her through more of your half-baked schemes. We’re done.”

“Marian—_c__’mon_! We can fix this! Just listen to my plan.” Tyki grinned, too widely for Cross’ liking. But he had to admit—he didn’t want Miranda to hate them. And if they could somehow manage to clear up the air between them and apologize…

“Fine. Tell me what your stupid plan is.”

“You mean brilliant.”

“That remains to be seen.”

xXxXxXx

It hurt to think about them.

Over a month had passed since the incident at the bar and Miranda hadn’t seen or heard from Tyki and Cross in that time. She’d felt so foolish after eavesdropping on their conversation. Once the truth had come out, it was easy to see how their behavior should have warned her that something wasn’t quite right. It was strange that two men—two _incredibly handsome_ men, at that—had taken an interest to her at the same time. She wasn’t anything special, really, and most people found her annoying. Off-putting. Impossible to deal with. But she thought that maybe, _for once_, she was desirable. Or at the very least, had found some new friends—two people who weren’t spending time with her over some sense of guilt or charity.

She’d never been so wrong in her life.

Miranda had only been a game to them—something to pass the time when they were stuck at the boutique for fittings. A play thing, to be discarded when the game ended. _God_, it made her chest ache to think about. And the worst part—the absolute worst thing of all—was that she missed their company.

She missed their flirtations, their attentions, their jokes. She missed their presence in her life. It felt like a hole had been carved out of her heart and every beat from the gutted organ drained her of more blood and energy. Each day felt a little dimmer, a little less bearable. It was why she knew she couldn’t go to the wedding.

Both Tyki and Cross would be there, and though she adored Allen and Lavi and had RSVPed, she couldn’t bear to be at the event with them. She’d spent weeks imaging what running into them would be like, how she would deal with the awkwardness of it all, and couldn’t decide what gut-wrenching scenario would be worse—for them to laugh at her for being so easy to trick or for them to ignore her. Both were equally awful and she didn’t have the strength to save face over it. Rather than cause a commotion and possibly ruin the wedding, she opted to stay home. At least at home, no one laughed at her. She could be as klutzy and ridiculous as she wanted without fear of reprisal.

It was just after two and Miranda couldn’t stop looking at the clock. The morning had dragged on, but the afternoon felt worse. The wedding would start in three hours and every time she thought about missing the event, it made her chest ache all the worse. She tried distracting herself with sewing and then embroidery, but after poking her fingers more times than not, she had to put it down or risk getting blood on the fabric. Picking up her sketchbook, she hoped some sort of inspiration would come to her, even in her anxious state. As she put pencil to paper, there was a knock at her door.

“Coming,” she called, setting her sketchbook aside and hurrying to the door. She opened it thinking it was her landlord, who’d promised to check her leaky faucet a week ago, but was surprised to see Lenalee and a strange young girl standing on her welcome mat. “Um, hello…”

The girl smiled widely, too wide to be considered friendly. Her dark hair was styled in soft spikes and she wore a delicate, frilled dress, white and pink with silk ribbons. Though Miranda had never seen her before, she did look oddly familiar.

She pushed her way inside Miranda’s apartment, dragging a purple wheeled suitcase behind her. “Hurry up. We don’t have all day,” she said, heading into the living room before turning down the hallway. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to set up everything.” She disappeared before receiving an answer, leaving Miranda stunned in her wake.

“Aaa… Lenalee? What’s going on?” She turned back to her boss, dark-rimmed eyes blinking in confusion.

Lenalee offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the surprise, Miranda, but they were sure you’d say no if you knew what they’d planned. I’m just here to drop Road off. ”

“They? Who—” Before she could get the full question out of her mouth, the girl came back and grabbed Miranda’s wrist.

“What are you waiting for? I have to get you ready.” Road tugged Miranda down the hallway to her bathroom, heedless of Miranda’s confused squirming.

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“For the wedding! What else?”

Miranda blanched, nearly going limp in the Road’s hold. “What?!” She turned back to her boss, a look of fear in her wide eyes. “Lenalee? What’s going on?”

Lenalee waved from the doorway, still smiling and avoiding answering any questions as she closed it. “I’ve got to go help with set-up for the wedding. See you at the banquet hall.”

xXxXxXx

Road was a witch when it came to makeup. In all her years, Miranda never had the chance to use it, and any time she grew bold enough to make an attempt, it ended in disaster. Attempting a smoky-eye had always turned her into a raccoon. No matter how many different products she tried, she was a disaster after. The worst instance was when she went to work after trying to apply eyeshadow and everyone asked how she got a black eye.

Makeup had never been for _her_—but Road made it look easy and she wielded makeup brushes like magic wands. 

They sat in the back of the taxi on the way to the banquet hall downtown and Miranda couldn’t stop looking at her face in the compact mirror Road had given her for ‘touch-ups’. She’d applied a touch of concealer, mascara, eye liner and shadow, then a bit of lipstick. It was more than Miranda had ever managed to put together on her own. The effect was subtle, but… nice. Her eyeshadow matched the dusky purple of her dress—which Road had brought along and insisted she wore. It was floor length, silky smooth, and sleeveless with a plunging neckline that Miranda never would’ve worn if not heavily persuaded by the feisty teen. The outfit and makeup, along with her curled hair pulled back in a loose updo with rhinestone studded pins, left her feeling beautiful for the first time in her life—like a princess.

“Road, you did such a good job. How did you learn to do makeup like this?” Miranda asked as she closed the compact and tucked it into her clutch.

“Youtube,” she replied, not looking up from her phone as she continued to text. “It’s easy if you follow the instructions.”

“Still…” Miranda resisted the urge to look at her reflection again. She turned to Road and twisted her fingers together anxiously. “So… What exactly is going on?”

Road sighed and set her phone down, nearly losing it in the excessive ruffles of her skirt. “I already told you, we’re going to Allen and Lavi’s wedding.”

“No, I mean—” Miranda paused and tried not to purse her lips, worried she’d rub off the lipstick before they got to the banquet hall. “Why did you dress me up? Why are you taking me there? I wasn’t even going to attend today.”

Road hummed, tilting her head to the side and choosing her words carefully. “Let’s just say that there are two enormous idiots who are sorry they hurt you and are trying to make up for it.”

Miranda blinked at the response, staring back at Road with disbelief. “I… Do you mean—?”

“Yes. Uncle Tyki and his friend,” Road clarified, still sounding disgruntled as she answered Miranda’s growing number of questions.

“Ah. I didn’t know Tyki was your uncle.” Miranda looked out the window, breaking eye contact with Road. Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched the buildings pass by. They were almost to the banquet hall, and she still didn’t know what was really going on. Road and Lenalee seemed to be in on it, and whatever it was, Cross and Tyki were the masterminds. It made her queasy, walking into the situation blind. The only thing that calmed her frazzled nerves was knowing she wouldn’t miss out on Allen and Lavi’s big day. They were two of her closest friends and she owed it to them to be there to support their commitment.

“Yeah, I know what an idiot he can be,” Road added as Miranda fought her own inner turmoil. “Just give him a chance and he’ll fix whatever mess he’s made.”

Before Miranda could reply, the car stopped and Road squealed in delight. “We’re here!” She threw a wad of cash into the front seat and dragged Miranda out after her. “Hurry up—the ceremony is about to start! We don’t want to be late!”

All Miranda could do was follow after and try not to lose her heels as Road pulled her into the building.

Both the ceremony and reception were set to take place in the banquet hall. As Miranda entered, she could barely tell that the place had been an empty room just yesterday. Circular tables filled the room near the entrance and most people had already taken their seats. White linen table cloths covered each table and at the center stood a set of three pillar candles and scattered flower petals.

Road had bounded off, leaving Miranda painfully alone. She glanced around the banquet hall until she spotted Lenalee at one of the tables closer to the stage. Lenalee waved her over and Miranda felt a modicum of relief as she joined her boss at the table.

“I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t be here in time,” Lenalee whispered as she leaned in close, pulling at the white silk wrap around her shoulders.

Miranda set her clutch down on the table next to the already placed dinner wear. There was a small place card in front of her seat that read _Miranda Lotto_, but looking around the table, she realized she didn’t know any of the other occupants. “I worried that myself. Is the ceremony about to start?”

Lenalee parted her lips to speak, but the background music cut out mid-song, and the procession music began.

Everyone turned towards the entrance as the doors opened. Miranda’s heart leapt in her throat as she spotted Cross walking down the aisle, book in hand. Her brown eyes widened like saucers as she watched him take his place up at the front stage, just behind a microphone. When his gaze met hers, she flushed and looked away, unable to calm the furious beating in her chest. The sound nearly drowned out the music. She wanted to run and hide, but it was too late. If she left now, it would cause a scene and she’d only be more embarrassed than she already was.

Her attention was stolen by the next member of the wedding party walking down the aisle. She’d only met Kanda a handful of times at the shop, but she recognized the scowl on his face instantly. He walked alone, and as soon as he made his way to the front, taking his place on Cross’ right side, the second best man joined as well.

Watching Tyki walking to the stage was as nerve-wracking as seeing Cross, but Miranda couldn’t take her eyes off him. Unlike Cross, he caught her gaze as he walked. Her throat dried up as Tyki took his place on the other side of Cross. She felt their eyes on her and it brought back memories of the night she’d last seen them—the night she found out she was nothing but a bet to them. But before the ache in her guts could turn sour, she recalled Road’s words in the car ride over.

They wanted her here. They wanted to make things right. The least she could do is give them a chance to explain themselves.

Before she could think too hard on the whole affair, the music changed. Everyone’s attention drew to the back of the hall once more as Allen and Lavi began to walk down the aisle arm in arm. The worry and anxiety Miranda had felt the entire day melted away and she smiled as she watched her friends join the others on stage. All she could focus on was how beautiful everyone looked, how happy, and it filled her heart with joy. She couldn’t believe she’d almost missed this. If she had stayed home today, she never would’ve forgiven herself.

The ceremony flew by and Miranda had to borrow a few tissues from Lenalee before it ended. Lenalee always cried at weddings, but Miranda hadn’t expected herself to tear up as well. As the wedding party dispersed, Lenalee took Miranda to the bar for drinks while the caterers prepared dinner.

Guests flooded the bar on the far end of the hall, chatting amongst themselves and discussing the ceremony—as well as wishing the newlywed couple congratulations on their union. The music turned up again and a popular song Miranda recalled hearing once or twice on the radio filled the room. A few people already made use of the empty dance floor.

“Road did a good job,” Lenalee said as she escorted Miranda to the bar. They wedged their way into an empty space and waited to catch the bartender’s attention. “Your dress and makeup are better than mine.”

Miranda flushed. “Oh, no! Lenalee, you look beautiful as always! I’m just—”

“Miranda, please.” Lenalee waved a hand to calm her flustered employee. “You need to have some confidence in yourself. And learn to take a compliment.” She smiled and turned her attention to the bartender, ordering them both a drink.

She took a breath and shook her head slightly, curls bouncing against her cheeks. Lenalee was right, of course. It was a hard habit to beat, being so down on herself constantly. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Lenalee handed her a glass of pink champagne as they both retreated from the bar. “Here—Lavi sprung for an open bar, so it’s all free.”

“Thank you.” As Miranda was about to take a sip, a deep, smooth voice behind her sent a shiver up her spine.

“Not to interrupt lady time,” Tyki said, coming into view on Miranda’s left side. He was looking at Lenalee, polite and smiling. “But could we borrow your seamstress for a moment?”

The ‘we’ took her off guard until she noticed Cross had appeared at her right. She pressed her painted lips together and held the delicate champagne flute to her chest, worried her trembling hands would spill it. She hadn’t expected them to seek her out so quickly.

Lenalee looked hesitant, eyeing Tyki and Cross with unease. But Miranda knew she couldn’t avoid the confrontation for long. Her shoulders slumped and she swallowed down her anxiety. “It’s okay, Lena.”

Lenalee patted Miranda’s trembling hands and offered her a supportive smile. “I’ll be back at the table if you need me.” Before she left, she glared at Tyki and Cross, her eyebrows pinched tight together and a murderous aura emanating from her. “Don’t try anything.”

Tyki raised his hands to surrender. Miranda thought she could see him sweating slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lenalee lingered for a moment, giving the two men a chilling death stare before taking a quick sip of her champagne and leaving the three alone.

Sighing, Tyki’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief after she’d left. “She’s intense.”

Cross’ lips twitched and though he tried to hide it, his own stiff posture relaxed as well. “Just a bit.” He shook his head slightly and looked down at Miranda. She felt his intense gaze on her like a spotlight, bright and hot. “Miranda, thank you for coming today.”

“We didn’t think you would,” Tyki added, taking her elbow and leading her away from the bar. They found a quieter corner away from the busy rush for drinks and the closeness felt more intimate than Miranda had expected in the boisterous banquet hall.

She took a sip of her drink, the fruity bubbles leaving a pleasant tang on her tongue, and tried to relax. “Actually, I… I’m glad I came. I never would’ve forgiven myself if I had missed Allen and Lavi’s wedding.” She smiled, lifting the rim of her glass to her lips to hide it and glanced at Tyki. “Besides, I doubt I could’ve escaped Road. Your niece doesn’t take no for an answer.”

Tyki snickered and rubbed his nose, glancing at the dance floor where Road had already grabbed some unsuspecting party guest and forced them to dance with her. “No, she doesn’t.”

The amusement fell from Miranda’s face as she looked down into her drink, watching the delicate bubbles cling to the glass. “Why did you bother? I mean…” She swallowed, her throat tight and dry like sandpaper. “If you wanted to apologize, you didn’t have to go through all this fuss. Especially for me.”

Cross winced and met Tyki’s own apologetic gaze before answering. “We were assholes.” He paused for a moment, adding, “Mostly Tyki.”

The comment left Tyki’s face scrunched up in resentment. “Hey!”

“But we were both to blame,” Cross amended, ignoring Tyki’s scowl. “And you didn’t deserve what we put you through.”

“It got out of hand,” Tyki added, shifting his focus back to Miranda. He took a step closer, and Miranda felt the heat rise on her cheeks as his arm brushed up against hers. “We were trying to one-up each other and you got hurt in the process. We didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Cross followed up, without a hint of hesitation in his voice. “We like you too much to leave things the way they were.”

“You—” Miranda flushed bright red, her fingers curling around the champagne flute in her hands. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You like me?” Her gaze was too much to bear and Cross looked away as his face tinted red. It was nowhere near the color of her own cheeks, but she’d never seen him look so embarrassed.

Tyki picked up where Cross left off, unabashed. “We both do. We actually, uh…” He trailed off for a moment, unable to meet her gaze. “We realized we’ve sort of been fighting over you these past few months.”

“M-Me?” Miranda stuttered out, more confused than ever. “But I…I’m…”

“If you’re going to say something self-deprecating, don’t bother,” Tyki said, cutting off her fumbling speech. He managed to smirk, looking more like he had in the weeks they’d interacted at the boutique. “We’re both already madly in love with you.”

“L-L-Love?” Miranda ducked her head, staring back into her glass and suddenly feeling dizzy.

Cross nudged Tyki, giving him a dirty look over Miranda’s head. “Don’t start with your faux suave routine. You’ll freak her out saying stuff like that.”

“What?” Tyki complained, shrugging his shoulders. “Tell me I’m wrong.” Cross only sighed in reply.

Miranda felt like her ears were full of cotton. She barely paid attention to their soft bickering next to her, though she had to admit, the familiar dynamic did put her at ease. But still, to hear they cared that much about her… Her heart feeling lighter than air. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Cross assured her, resting a warm hand on her shoulder. It felt more comforting than anything else had the entire night, and soothed the piece of her mind that refused to accept that she deserved to be loved. “We don’t expect you to forgive us. We just wanted you to know how sorry we are that things got out of hand.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Tyki added, giving her a light-hearted smile. “And we’re sorry we sprung this on you. We just didn’t want you to miss the wedding on account of us.”

Miranda nodded, her mind fumbling to sort through everything they’d told her. Half of it still felt too unbelievable to take seriously. But Cross and Tyki seemed genuine, and though Miranda had never been a great judge of character, it would’ve taken some guts to continue with their bet like this—especially at a wedding.

She took a sip from her drink before speaking, her tone soft and serious. “You know… I do like you—both of you. And I did have a lot of fun together. More fun than I’d had in a long time, to be honest.”

Tyki took her free hand, his thumb brushing gently across the back of it. “So, we weren’t _total_ assholes, then?”

Giggling, Miranda shook her head. “No, you weren’t.” She smiled as Tyki’s touch lingered on her skin, warm and comforting. She looked to him, then Cross. “I wouldn’t mind… seeing you both again. Just promise not to make any more bets involving me.”

“I think we can promise that,” Cross agreed, resting his hand on her back.

Tyki nodded. “Definitely.”

Miranda took a breath to speak, but a sudden lull in the music stole her attention and the DJ made an announcement about a special performance. She tilted her head in confusion. “What’s that about?”

With a laugh, Tyki let go of her hand and rubbed his face, his laughter turning into a groan. “Fuck. It’s that time, Marian.”

Cross let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’m not drunk enough yet. Let me get a whiskey.”

“Too late. Time to pay up for our wager.” Tyki snagged Cross by the arm and headed towards the stage.

“Wait, what are you two doing?” They weaved past the tables and guests towards the stage, Miranda on their heels.

Tyki turned and gave her a smile. “When we made our bet over you, the one who lost had to sing at the wedding. And since we both lost—”

“We both sing,” Cross finished. “Have a seat and enjoy the show, Miss Lotto.”

Miranda stopped near her table, still watching Tyki and Cross as they took the stage and grabbed the microphone from the stand. She sat down next to Lenalee, still stunned. Her gaze never straying from them, eyebrows knit up in confusion.

“What are they doing?” Lenalee asked, leaning in closer to Miranda as a hush fell over the crowded room.

“I… I think they’re singing?”

“What?”

Miranda heard the surprise in Lenalee’s voice just before the music turned up. The song felt familiar, but it wasn’t until the seconds before the lyrics began that she recognized it. “Oh, my God,” she whispered to herself.

“_Don__’t go breakin’ my heart,_” Cross sang into the microphone, looking mortified as Tyki leaned in next to him to continue with the duet.

“_I couldn__’t if I tried._”

“_Honey if I get restless,_” Cross continued, followed by Tyki—who looked to be having at least a modicum of fun compared to his partner.

“_Baby, you__’re not that kind._”

“Is that…?” Lenalee asked, covering her grin with a hand. “Are they singing an Elton John song?”

“Yes,” Miranda replied, unable to hold back her laughter. As the duet continued, Miranda couldn’t help but smile and shake with barely controlled giggles—and she wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. She caught sight of Allen and Lavi laughing their asses off at the head table and Road was definitely recording the performance on her phone. She would have to ask her for a copy later.

She couldn’t believe how utterly ridiculous they were, embarrassing themselves on stage just to make amends for the bet they’d started over her. Miranda knew in that moment she couldn’t help herself. She had to forgive them. How could she stay mad at those two idiots? Then a thought struck her, frightening and wonderful all at the same time.

They were now _her_ idiots.


End file.
